The Coffee-Bean Incedent: Aya's Story
by BatafuraiYousei
Summary: Being florists/assassins takes its toll on our dear kitty-cats! Both jobs become inhumanly busy, and Aya has to stay up alone one night to work on flower arrangements. Right now, the rating is PG-13 for language, but it may eventually go up to an NC-17.
1. Chapter I: Title?! We Don't Need no Stin...

Author: Hoshino Yumeko  
  
Email: ShiniFerret@aol.com  
  
Title: The Coffee-Bean Incedent: Aya's Story  
  
Type: Comedy. Right now a one-shot, but if I get inspired, I may write a whole bunch of these.  
  
Teaser: Weiß has a busy week, and Aya gets himself high on caffeine while trying to finish some floral arrangements.  
  
Rating: PG, PG-13  
  
Spoilers: Any Spoilers in fic, preferably with Episode # Warnings: Warnings for your fic, such as: Shonen Ai, Yaoi, Strong Language, Mild Language, Lime, Lemon, etc. (See Below please)  
  
Warnings:  
  
Keywords For Your Fic: Funny; Hyper A-yan; that's about all I have so far...  
  
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CH. 1--Title?! We Don't No Stinking Title!  
  
Omi unsuccessfully tried to blow his bangs out of his face as he carried yet another armful of Ingrid Bergman roses to the front of the store. "Hey, guys, do you need more baby's breath?"  
  
His simple inquiry was met by a resounding chorus of "YES!" from the other frazzled florists of Kitty in the House. They were almost up to their elbows in red roses, delicate white baby's breath and ferns.  
  
"How's the patient doing, Doctor?" the genki youth joked as he neatly laid down the red rosebuds he'd been carrying. His jest was met by a triad of annoyed gazes: firey emerald-green, misty-purple and amber-brown eyes promised pure hell if he didn't either shut up or get busy. "Ummm... I'll just go grab the baby's breath," he murmured, suddenly remembering why he never talked to the other guys during a week like this.  
  
"No. No, Omi-kun, let *me* get it..." Ken muttered. "*You* help Aya and Youji. I *insist*." His last comment was said through near-gritted teeth. Apparently work was coming along slowly...  
  
None of them were usually THAT irritable -- well, except for maybe Youji when he'd run out of cigarettes -- but they'd been having missions every night for four days straight, and even Aya was starting to show signs of strain from the sleep-deprivation. It also didn't help that they had to do arrangements for a funeral, wedding and big dinner-party that were all needed on Saturday.  
  
Omi came out of his reverie and sighed. It had been a long week, and it was only Tuesday. \\But such is the life of an assassin, I suppose...\\ he told himself. "Ne, Ken... You've been gone for a good bit of time now! It's not like this is rocket science! Just grab an armful of baby's breath and bring it up here!"  
  
Ken sighed in aggrivation. "It's not here!" The 'you snotty little jerk' went unspoken but was there nonetheless.  
  
"Not there?! Ken, for cryin' out loud, it's got its own shelf back there!" Youji got into the act of reading the soccer player the riot act as he lit up a much-needed cigarette.  
  
"'Not here' as in the shelf is empty except for a piece of paper that says, 'Omi, note to self: Order more baby's breath!'"  
  
"Ohh..." Omi said in an oddly strangled voice as he inched toward the front door. He didn't dare turn his back to the other assassins as he stutterred, "Umm... I-uh...Well, you see, I have to go, um... Oh, screw the excuse!" With that exclamation, he ran into the bright autumn afternoon sunlight to escape his angry teammates and the strain of being himself for just a few hours.  
  
  
  
It was seven'o'clock in the evening by the time Omi quietly crept back into the flower shop. He tiptoed through the back door with a silence that was only acheived by the dead, those who make others dead or those who stole from the living/dead/didn't matter. "Hello, Omi....." Youji said in a low, toneless chuckle that only he could correctly execute... It sounded disconcertingly like Hannibal Lector...  
  
The young blond winced at the sound of the playboy's voice. He was SO screwed.  
  
"Hi, Youji." He tried to sound as casual and nonchalant as possible, despite the fact that his stomach was doing the twist.  
  
Ken snickered and stood by Youji with his arms crossed over his chest. "Omi... You are *so* screwed."  
  
"Ken, shut up." This was murmured in a bored, barely audible tone as Youji tightly clutched a cigarette between his lips and tried to get his lighter to actually work. "Oh, fer Pete's SAKE... Come ON... Friggin' lighter..."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Shut *u-up*."  
  
"I'm just tellin' the tru-"  
  
Sigh. "Ken.... Shut up! I'm being as patient with you as humanly possible, considering the circumstances." The tall blonde closed his eyes as the first cloud of nicotene and tar hit his lungs, as if it were a spiritual epiphany. "Mmmmm.... I need a drink...."  
  
"What you NEED is to stop drinking and smoking so much..." Ken retorted sourly.  
  
Youji raised one dark gold eyebrow as he regarded the brunette as if he'd just made a statement with the insanity level of Farfarello's usual schizophrenic ramblings. "Do you want to die tonight?" he said coolly. "Because I *can* arrange it."  
  
Omi cleared his throat to draw the attention back to himself. "Guys...? I thought it was bitch-out-Omi-hour." He checked his watch. "Your next arguement's not due until at least nine..."  
  
"Bishounen's right! We're supposed to be mad at HIM, not each other!"  
  
"I'm still right..."  
  
"Ken, shut up."  
  
Omi coughed again. "So, you guys aren't TOO angry with me, are you?" He gave them his best 'Oh-look-at-me,I'm-so-cute-and-innocent' look as he acted as if he felt terribly guilty. In truth, he was just getting sick of Ken and Youji insulting each other.  
  
Aya, who'd been quietly polishing Shion the whole time, looked down the blade's length. "Oh, only slightly..." His sarcasm was thick enough to slice with bugnuks.  
  
Youji was in open-mouthed surprise for a few seconds. "He... he... SPOKE! And it was sarcastic! Funny! Humorous!" He was so surprised he actually forgot to insult Ken after ten seconds had gone by, and his cigarette dangled precariously from his fingers before he dropped it. "Damn!" He stomped it out before it really began to blacken the floor. "Dammit, Aya! Look what you made me do!"  
  
The other three rolled their eyes at him, and Omi looked at his watch. "Oh, gee, look at the time," he monotoned 'regretfully.' It was bad acting and he knew it, but he'd do anything to shut *those* two up. "Mayhaps I should go check to see if Persia left us a message." He backed out of the room slowly, so as not to gain the attention of the most dangerous predators known to man: the Balinese, the Abbysinian and the Siberian. //Jesus, I've been watching too much of the Discovery Channel,// he told himself.  
  
"Coward," Aya murmured to the door clicking shut behind the teenager. Briefly he wondered why he hadn't come up with that idea first.  
  
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	2. Chapter II: Omi+His CD Collection+Stereo...

Author: Hoshino Yumeko  
  
Title: The Coffee-Bean Incident: Aya's Story, Chapter Two: Omi+His CD Collection+Stereo=Migraine  
  
Author's Notes: I know, it's been forever and then some since I posted Chapter One. ^.^;;; I'm sorry. I'm also sorry if any of you find this unbearably short. I write as I'm inspired, and I post as I see completion. One day, I will combine all this into a lengthy one-shot, but until then, tolerate my goofy chapter titles.  
  
Also, one day, I will have more time. School will not rule my life, and I'll have more time to devote to my... *badly-muffled snickering from the background* art.  
  
Anyhey, the appearance of Manx's rifle in this chapter is dedicated to my Kumiko-chan, my little Color Guard maven. ^_^ I hope you like this! I've been having an INSANE amount of fun writing this fic and making it God- hurting-ly satirical! Writing such idiotically silly stuff is therapeutic.  
  
So, send all comments, insults, flames, non-living sacrifices [You'd really like this that much?! ^.^;;;] misplaced pixies and articles of Youji's wardrobe to either ShiniFerret@aol.com or Batafurai_yousei@yahoo.com.  
  
And if you find absolutely none of this funny, shame on you! ^_~  
  
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CH. 2--Omi+His CD Collection+Stereo=Migraine  
  
Not to anyone's actual surprise, Omi really had been correct. He briefly considered going to get his team-mates; noiselessly pushing the door open and cautiously peeking from around the doorframe, he watched for a moment before even considering blindly rushing into the skirmish. Years of performing his given tasks as an assassin had taught him the virtue of a keen eye, but, more relevantly, so had years of living with Ken.  
  
The genki one had a tendency to be a space-case, and would burst into a room whenever the random need to do so struck him. He had done that once before when Ken hadn't been watching where he was going, and Omi had a strong suspicion that there were still stains of his blood permanently left in the cracks between the floor tiles. That had been the day exactly how lethal Ken's clumsy streak was. He still wondered how a person who could barely walk and chew gum simultaneously during the day could be the deathly efficient Siberian at night.  
  
"Oh, YEAH?! Well you wouldn't know a target unless they bit you on your ass!" Ken yelled wildly to a [probably, considering Youji's style of abuse] stinging insult dealt to him by the ever-slick playboy.  
  
Youji made a face at Ken. "That's kinda gross, man."  
  
Ken narrowed his eyes, and Omi closed the door to mute the sound of the squabbling over what Ken had actually meant when he said that. He wasn't going to break up this cat-fight, which was continuing with the intensity of World War III. The blond considered himself slightly homicidal, not suicidal.  
  
But Omi didn't actually have to break up the fight, because as he turned back to the computer, Manx walked into the shop, carrying a Color Guard saber from her high school days. Aya gave her a confused glare until she sauntered over to Ken and Youji and solidly walloped the both of them over the head. "Intelligent solution," the red-haired men murmured.  
  
Manx smiled mysteriously and laughed as they watched the formerly- arguing florists rub their smarting scalps and glare and the smirking messenger. She deftly twirled the white-tape-insulated wooden rifle in her hands and replied, "Thank you, Aya. I consider that quite a compliment." She cooly examined Youji and Ken and, with the frost of the Artic in her voice, said, "Break it up for now, boys. We have work to do. People besides your teammates for you to kill. Now, I trust we can take the few steps to the mission room in reletive quiet, hmm?"  
  
Aya fell into step behind her, and he--well, he was Aya; what do you want him to do?  
  
...On second thought, forget I asked, you hentais!  
  
Anyway, Ayan was Ayan, Ken-Ken was sulking and Youji was damned fine, a glowing example of male perfection, making his way across the white tile floor with the grace of a multi-billion-dollar model on a catwalk in Mi--  
  
Youji, GIVE me that PEN! This is MY story, dangit! I will NOT pet your Narcissistic ego! If you don't watch it, I WILL write that lemon of you and Farfie!  
  
_ANYWAY_, they walked to the mission room in the total silence that Manx so evilly desired, and she opened the door to a few dozen earfuls of Rammstein. Omi nodded his head happily to the beat of the song as he pulled up the file that would hold the night's mission. If Ken hadn't been so busy concentrating on maintaining a good sulk, he would have instantly cheered at the pained expression on Manx's face as she stood, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, with the open door clutched in one hand.  
  
Youji rolled his eyes at the young one's choice of music. Rammstein was good, but he personally was currently in more of a Pink Floyd mood himself. He walked past Manx and attempted, to no avail, to scream at Omi over the song. "OMI! TURN YOUR DAMNED CD OFF!" The statement was repeated at various intensity of expletives, but no progress was made, which was a damned pity, because Youji got more inventive after every repetition. (The expletives flew in strikingly beautiful flocks through the air... All of them whizzing by Omi's oh-so-naive head...)  
  
The tall assassin finally reached over and wrenched the pulg from the wall socket. "OMI!"  
  
"...Yes?" He lifted his head to gaze, with guilty fear in his too- blue eyes, at the terror of an angry Kudou Youji towering over him. If he had been feeling any worse about the episode, his eyes would have been welling with guilty tears.  
  
Youji sighed as he looked down at the teenager, and the room again grew eerily silent as a pang of guilt struck him. "Omi! I...you--well!..." Ken got a great deal of sadistic pleasure from watching the normally oh-so- smooth playboy stutter through an apology to his snuggle-bunny. "Omittchi..." Youji murmured, running his fingers through Omi's pale hair, "I'm sorry for yelling at you..."  
  
"Okay," Omi replied sweetly, running his fingers over Youji's cheek. And, as all the non-shounen-ai-loathing view--err, readers, finish "aww"- ing over the pure, sticky-sweet cuteness of it all, Youji pulling him into a lovely kiss.  
  
//Man,// Omi thought deviously as he and Youji played tonsil-hockey, //gotta love the cuteness factor.//  
  
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